


Rain Checks

by sophh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, POV Hermione Granger, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh
Summary: She has this sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. Merlin help her, she must be even more drunk than she thought. That is not a thought sober Hermione would ever have. Post-war Dramione.





	Rain Checks

**Author's Note:**

> For Anna. Beta'ed by the lovely Elizabeth. 
> 
> As always, cross-posted to ff.net under CinderellaattheBall. 
> 
> Warning: minor instance of violence.
> 
> Inspired by these Hamilton prompts:  
> Aaron Burr, Sir: "Can I buy you a drink?"  
> Blow Us All Away: "You should have watched your mouth before you talked about my father, though."  
> And this Game of Thrones prompt:  
> "Love is more powerful than reason. We all know that."

**Rain Checks**

Hermione sits at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a beer. She's alone tonight; normally Ginny would accompany her, but Harry bought Quidditch tickets to celebrate their five-year dating anniversary. So Hermione came by herself, unable to stand the silence of her empty flat. 

She talks with Hannah Abbott for a bit before hunkering down on a barstool and surveying the crowd. It seems like everyone else is here with someone. It's somehow fitting that she's the only one flying solo. Of her entire friend group from Hogwarts, small as it was, she is the only one that isn't in a relationship. Sometimes she asks herself what she's holding out for. Sometimes she pretends she actually knows the answer to that. 

She takes a sip from her bottle every now and then, enjoying the way the alcohol floods her system and makes everything slightly fuzzier. She's not much of a drinker, so she tries to pace herself. It wouldn't do to end up dancing on the tables, although, she muses, it would no doubt make for an interesting story. Provided she could remember it, of course. 

A catchy song with a pounding bass comes on and Hermione lazily sways to it. 

"Fancy seeing you here, Granger." 

Hermione almost falls out of her seat. She turns to the owner of the voice in shock. Draco Malfoy stands before her, dressed to the nines in a sleek black suit and green tie. It occurs to her that she has never really seen him outside of his school robes before. It also occurs to her that he is very easy on the eyes. His figure is slender yet defined, and she can't help but admire the way his platinum-blond hair contrasts with his suit. 

"Most people would say hello, you know," he drawls. She doesn't quite have the heart, or indeed, the coordination, to glare at him as she rights herself. Perhaps she is more inebriated than she thought. 

"I should think," she says at last, "you would know by now that I'm not most people, Malfoy." 

Malfoy eyes her appraisingly. She watches as he takes in her rather simple black dress and low heels and braces herself for a biting remark. 

"You look... nice," he says finally. 

She raises an eyebrow. "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" 

He huffs out a laugh. "Merlin, woman, don't you know how to take a compliment?" 

"A compliment delivered by a sneaky ferret is no compliment at all," Hermione retorts. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hannah look over at her and do a double-take when she sees her talking to Malfoy. 

"Granger," the blond says, his voice suddenly more nervous than she has ever heard it, "can I buy you a drink?" 

At first, Hermione thinks she hasn't heard him properly. Then she laughs, because of _course_ she misheard him. There is just no way in hell— 

"Granger? Did you hear what I said? Can I buy you a drink?" Malfoy's voice has taken on an impatient tone, which is a pity because he sounded so pleasant before. 

"That...that would be nice," she hears herself say. "But I already have one." She takes a sip as if to demonstrate her point. 

He shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. Does Draco Malfoy even worry about the same things normal people do? "I'll take a rain check, then." 

Hermione stares at him. "Why?" 

"Why what?" He stares right back, and she feels the beginnings of a blush spread across her face. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she blurts out, then cringes at how blunt she sounded. "I mean, why are you...wait a minute." A thought has just occurred to her. "Is this part of your rehabilitation or something?" 

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow at her, an amused smirk playing at his lips. "My _what_?" 

"Your, you know...your rehabilitation," Hermione whispers. "Making amends, after the war." 

He laughs, and for the first time it isn't mocking. "Granger," he says gently, " _no_." 

Hermione is stumped. What would possess him to act so friendly towards her, then? She looks around to see if she spots any familiar Slytherin faces. When she doesn't spot any, she frowns. It seems likely that he came alone, which strikes her as very odd indeed. 

"Looking for someone?" His question startles her. 

"No," she murmurs. "It's just...are you here with anyone?" To her surprise, he sighs and shakes his head. 

"You'd be surprised how few people want to associate with a former Death Eater," he says. "The old crowd doesn't want much to do with me anymore." Hermione can tell he's trying to be nonchalant and not quite succeeding. She can tell he's hurt by the abandonment of his friends, even if he won't admit it to her. 

"I see," she says lightly, taking another swig of beer. "And you thought I would have no such qualms?" 

"Oh, no, I very much thought you would," he replies. "I suppose I approached you _because_ of that." 

Hermione's brow wrinkles. "I'm afraid I don't understand." 

"A part of me had hoped you would yell at me, or cause a scene, or...something. Not just sit there and be nice to me like I ever did anything to deserve that. We both know I didn't." 

She shakes her head. "Self-deprecation doesn't suit you, Malfoy." She pauses, then tilts her bottle towards him. "Want some?" She is floored when he grabs it and takes a long pull. 

"Enough about me," he says abruptly, passing her drink back. "What about you? What are you up to these days?" 

"I work at the Ministry—" 

"No surprises there—" 

"—in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It's rude to interrupt, you know." Hermione sticks her nose in the air in her best attempt at snobbery. Malfoy laughs, and she again notices how much _nicer_ he seems. 

"Sounds just like you, really," he says, looking amused. Hermione isn't sure whether to be offended or not, so she merely downs the rest of her bottle. At this point, Hannah notices she's finished and comes over to see if she wants anything else. 

"Everything okay, 'Mione?" the bartender asks. She looks pointedly at Malfoy. "Not giving her any trouble, are you?" 

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't?" he asks. 

She tilts her head, assessing him briefly. "D'you know what, I would." 

He dips his head briefly. "Appreciated, Abbott." 

She smiles warmly at him, and Hermione watches as the hint of a smile appears on his face as well. "Take care, Malfoy." She turns away to help another customer, and Malfoy leans closer to Hermione. 

"So, you and Abbott are friends?" 

"Yeah. We kind of bonded over Neville. Oh, that sounds weird. I just meant, she's his wife, and Neville and I are friends, and..." Hermione trails off and grimaces. "Never mind." 

"She married Longbottom?" Malfoy lets out a low whistle, and Hermione bristles. He's about to make some disparaging remark about Neville, she just knows it. 

But he doesn't. 

Instead, he says, "Good for him. I'd raise my glass to him, but I don't have one." 

"Oh, you should have asked Hannah-" 

"Oh, no. I don't really drink much anymore." Malfoy runs a hand through his hair. "Not after...after everything." 

"That makes sense," Hermione says quickly, not wanting him to feel like he has to open up any more than he already has. She casts around for a new topic. "Are you, erm, seeing anyone?" 

Malfoy looks at her incredulously, and she belatedly realizes her mistake. "Yeah, women are really lining up to date me now, Granger." 

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not having much luck in the romance department either." Hermione isn't sure what compelled her to admit that. Perhaps she really _has_ consumed too much. 

"Really?" Malfoy asks, and she thinks his eyes have widened ever so slightly. Which doesn't make any sense, because why would Draco Malfoy be surprised by that? But then he says, "So, you and Weasley aren't...?" and she realizes _that's_ what he found shocking. That she and Ron, however perfect they may have seemed for each other, were not compatible at all. 

"Oh no, no," Hermione says with a weak chuckle. "He's with Lavender now, actually. Lavender Brown." 

"I see," he says. "Well, I'm happy for you, Granger." 

She tilts her head at him, trying to figure out if he's being genuine this time. "You are?" 

"Yeah, he was never good enough for you." Malfoy shrugs, as though he didn't just upend her entire world. As if she isn't being forced to completely reevaluate everything she thought she knew about him. 

She takes another look around the bar to occupy herself for a moment. As she does so, her ears pick up on a loud whisper nearby. 

"...Malfoy would show his face here. His father was complete scum, and I'm not convinced _he_ 's any better." 

Hermione's heart sinks. If she can hear that, surely Malfoy can too. She looks at him, and his face is oddly calm. "Are you o—" 

Before she can finish her sentence, Draco has lunged at the speaker, a short, bald man wearing several rings on his fingers. He grips the man's throat so tightly that his face starts to turn purple. 

"Don't you _ever_ insult my father again." He is shaking, hard, and when Hermione goes intervene, she realizes that she is trembling too. 

"Malfoy, no!" she cries. A few of the other patrons are craning their necks, trying to see what is happening. 

"What is going on here?" Hannah has her hands on her hips and a scowl on her usually cheerful face. "Mr. Malfoy, do I need to reconsider what I said earlier?" 

"He insulted my father," Malfoy growls, eyes blazing. Hermione draws her wand and points it at him with relative stability. 

"Let him go," she says, surprising herself with how calm and steady her voice is. "He isn't worth it, Malfoy." 

The man's face is steadily taking on a nasty bluish tinge. Another minute and Hermione is pretty sure he'll be dead. Recognizing the urgency of the situation, she steps closer. 

Malfoy looks at her with a pained expression. "Stay out of this, Granger. You don't need to play the hero today." 

She smiles grimly. "That's the thing about us Gryffindors, isn't it? We never miss a chance to play the hero." With a quick flick of her wand, she sends ropes flying towards him. A second later, he is rendered immobile. The man drops to the floor, panting and wheezing, while Hannah looks immensely relieved that no one was murdered in her bar. The noise level increases as people begin to talk about what they just witnessed. 

Hermione stalks over to Malfoy. "What the hell was that, Malfoy?" she hisses. "You could have been carted off to Azkaban for that stunt." 

"Maybe that's what I wanted," Malfoy sneers, struggling against his bonds. "Now, unhand me." 

Hermione juts out her chin. "Not until you apologize." 

"Apolo—have you lost your mind, Granger? Did you not hear what he said?" 

"Of course I heard what he said," Hermione whispers. "But I would have thought—after everything he did—after everything he made you do—" 

"He's still my father," Malfoy says, his voice strangled. He tries once more to escape. "Release me!" 

"Apologize." 

He glares at her for a long moment, then sighs in defeat. Hermione gestures to the man Malfoy attacked, and he reluctantly shuffles over. 

"Yes?" he asks gruffly. 

"I believe he," Hermione nods at Malfoy, "has something to say to you." She watches as Malfoy attempts to form an apology. 

"I am...sorry," he grinds out, before muttering, "You should have watched your mouth before you talked about my father, though." Hermione narrows her eyes at him, but the man seems not to have heard that second part. 

"I'm sorry too," he says quietly. "Sorry that justice wasn't served when it should have been." He spits at Malfoy's feet and stomps away. The few people that had been observing the interaction turn away and go back to their own conversations. 

Hermione looks at Malfoy. His chest is heaving and his normally tidy blond hair is disheveled. She doesn't know what will happen if she releases him. Will he start a brawl? Will he burst into tears? She makes a split-second decision. Wandlessly, so as not to give away what she is doing, she removes his bonds, then grabs his arm and Disapparates back to her flat. 

It takes a moment for the room to stop spinning, but when it does, she stumbles slightly. Thankfully, Malfoy doesn't seem to notice. 

"What—where are we?" Malfoy asks, an odd mixture of dazed and angry. He straightens himself up and smooths down his suit. "Never mind. I'm leaving. Goodbye, Granger." 

Hermione laughs as he tries to Disapparate and fails. "Sorry, Malfoy. Wards are up. Can't have you running back to the Leaky Cauldron and causing a fuss." 

Malfoy sniffs. "Malfoys don't _cause fusses_. We...create drama and intrigue." 

"Oh, yes, of course," she snorts. "Terribly sorry to have gotten that wrong." Malfoy rolls his eyes. 

"So, what is this place?" He looks around, taking in the sitting room, which is sparsely furnished aside from a number of bookcases crammed with books. "Oh, don't tell me this is _your_ place, Granger." 

Hermione folds her arms. "As a matter of fact, it is, and you needn't sound so ungrateful." 

"Ungrateful?" He raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards her. "You kidnapped me!" 

"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffs. _Kidnapped_ him? She did nothing of the sort. 

"You're the one who's being dramatic," Malfoy retorts. "What was the point in bringing me here? Did you really think I was going to go spare and curse everyone in the bar or something?" 

"Of course not!" she says indignantly, but she's beginning to realize that she might have acted in haste. The raw anger that he displayed in the bar seems to be ebbing away. "I just thought you might need to—to calm down." 

"I _am_ calm," Malfoy says through gritted teeth. 

"You—" Hermione realizes Malfoy has been advancing on her. He's close. Too close. She can smell his expensive cologne, can see his pale eyelashes. She tries to back away and nearly trips over her own coffee table. He reaches out to steady her and she draws in a breath, wondering why it feels like a thousand volts of electricity are suddenly coursing through her. 

"Take down your wards," he orders, his eyes locked on hers. "Take them down right now." 

Hermione represses a shiver and stares defiantly back at him. "No." 

"No?" He leans in close, and her breath hitches. "Well, I guess you can't hold me responsible for whatever I end up doing to get out of here, then." 

He's still holding her arm, but Hermione barely notices. She has this sudden, _overwhelming_ urge to kiss him. Merlin help her, she must be even more drunk than she thought. That is not a thought sober Hermione would ever have. And yet, she was thinking clearly enough to set up the wards, which means...she just _wants_ to kiss Draco Malfoy. For no apparent reason. What a radical concept. 

She looks up to find Malfoy staring at her with a strange look on his face. "What?" she asks. "Do I have something on my face?" 

"No, you just look a little flushed," he says, letting go of her arm. "Water?" 

"What?" Hermione feels like he's speaking a language she doesn't understand, and she misses the warmth of his fingers on her arm. 

"Water," he repeats. "Would you like some water?" She nods instead of speaking. It seems safer that way. 

Malfoy moves out of the room, no doubt searching for her kitchen, and Hermione sinks down onto her tiny couch. Her legs suddenly feel very wobbly, like she's been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. When Malfoy returns a few minutes later, she has curled up against the arm of the sofa, groaning softly. 

"Here." Malfoy hands her a bright turquoise mug. Hermione isn't sure, but it seems like he's trying to avoid touching her again. "Water for you, tea for me." He brings a green mug up to his lips and takes a small sip. As he does so, Hermione notices him wince almost imperceptibly. 

"Wrong flavor?" she asks, worried that she has somehow offended the delicate sensibilities of a houseguest that she didn't plan for. A houseguest that she wants to _kiss_. 

"No, too hot." He looks away from her curious gaze and scans the room again. 

"Looking for someone?" Hermione jokes, remembering his question to her earlier. His eyes turn back to her, and she blushes. 

"Not at all," he says softly, taking a seat next to her on the couch. 

She sits up quickly. "I can conjure you a chair, if that would be more to your liking." She finds herself secretly hoping he'll stay where he is, though, and to her surprise, he does. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, sipping their respective drinks and avoiding each other's eyes. Finally, Hermione decides to say something. 

"So...it seems like you have a complicated relationship with your father." 

Malfoy's head turns to look at her so quickly she's worried he hurt himself. His face is inscrutable, however, as he words his reply. 

"I suppose you could say that," he says finally. "I don't know if he ever really loved me, or if he just loved what I represented to him." 

Hermione places her glass on the coffee table and leans towards him, wobbling slightly. "You still love him, though." It isn't a question. 

"Of course I do. He's my—he's my father." His voice comes out as a tortured whisper, and Hermione's heart goes out to him. He's been through as much as anyone else she knows, maybe even more, since he fought for the losing side. "Does that make sense to you? That I still love him, even though he was undoubtedly a terrible person?" 

"Of course," she answers immediately. "Love is more powerful than reason. We all know that." 

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure we all do." 

Hermione takes a deep breath. It feels like everything that's happened this entire night has been leading up to this. She leans forward and lets her lips crash onto his. At first, she is sure she's made a huge mistake. Malfoy just sits there on her too-small couch and doesn't move. She tries to figure out what to do now that she's kissed him and gotten no response. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest as she pulls herself away. 

And that's when he responds. 

He tangles his fingers in her thick, curly hair and presses his mouth against hers. She gasps as his touch lights her nerve endings on fire. It doesn't seem rational, but she's pretty sure she's forgotten how to think or breathe or do anything but savor _him._

Suddenly, he pulls away, and Hermione looks at him, disappointed. 

"I can't do this," he says at last. Hermione looks down at her feet and nods, even as her body screams at her to fight back for something she didn't even know she wanted until today. 

"I understand," she says, but she wishes she didn't. "I'm sorry I... I'm sorry." 

She pulls out her wand and removes her wards. "You can Disapparate now." 

But Malfoy—can she still call him that now?—doesn't. Instead, he sits and looks at her with something that _could_ be longing, except that she doesn't trust herself enough to recognize the various expressions of Draco Malfoy right now. 

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she huffs. "Your blood isn't contaminated from one kiss, you arse—" 

"That's not it," he interrupts. "It's...I think you've had too much to drink, and I can't let you do something you'll regret. I was raised better than that, or so I like to think." 

Hermione laughs bitterly. "Oh, so you're being _chivalrous_. I see now. Well, thank you for letting me down easy!" 

Malfoy exhales loudly. "I wasn't letting you down, Granger. I'm merely taking a rain check." 

His choice of words stirs Hermione's memory and she thinks back to their conversation in the Leaky Cauldron, when he said that he wanted to take a rain check on buying her a drink. Now he is saying he wants to take a rain check on kissing her. If she is understanding him correctly, that means— 

"Have you figured it out yet, Granger?" Malfoy asks impatiently. "I _like_ you. I struck up a conversation with you tonight because I wanted to see how you felt about me. I didn't think we'd end up at your flat, though." He smirks, and Hermione feels heat rush to her cheeks and her nether regions at the implication. 

"Oh," is all she can think to say. "The feeling is mutual. I only just realized it tonight, though." 

Malfoy — _Draco_ — swipes his thumb across her cheek in a gentle caress. "So...can I take a rain check? On a date and a kiss with you?" 

Hermione nods and smiles. "I would love that."

Her evening didn't end with her dancing on tables, but she never would have foreseen this, either—and it will _certainly_ make for an interesting story.


End file.
